We were going to both the 8:45 and 11:00 services, and, not surprisingly, we were a little late for the first service. I have to say, when running late, it is so much easier to get the kids settled in when everyone is singing, less disruptive for those who actually got there on time.

It’s funny, but I can’t remember what the song was, but just after I started to sing, I teared up, choked up. I couldn’t quite identify the feeling. I don’t have a good word to describe what it was like. It was too intense for “pleasant” to fit, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It felt like something inside me was breaking, but being bound up for healing as it broke. It was freeing in some indefinable way.

I remained teary until, while, and after I spoke, and it wasn’t until after I spoke the first time, after I had told members of my church family that I am grateful for my life and I am grateful for the lives of my children, that I realized: it’s gratitude.

If you’ve read previous posts about the depression I recently went through, you’ll know that my ability to be grateful was severely impaired. And, to be honest, a lack of gratitude contributed to the initial, what I think of as “normal” depression, and therefore to my vulnerability to the switch in my brain being flipped and my entering that place of dark hopelessness. I finally came out of it. I could again appreciate my life, but didn’t realize how shallow that appreciation remained.

But in those moments, I was truly, wholly grateful for my life. And when I looked at my kids in their quiet busyness as the service went on, I felt that familiar wonder that usually gets lost in the day-to-day demands of parenthood. Those three children are AMAZING, unique individuals created in God’s image, designed with care and forethought to fulfill His purpose in a way only they can. The amazing fact of life was once again amazing. The incredible way their hands were working as they colored with crayons, while their hearts beat, sending life-sustaining blood throughout their bodies. I was once again amazed by them in a way I hadn’t been in too long a time, amazed that their lives started in my body, that my unique DNA was part their unique DNA. My kids could not have been born to any other woman and man, at any other time. There was a specific combination of Jeff’s and my genetic material necessary to make them the people they are. Just as each of us is, they are amazing creations, conceived at the only moment they could be.

When you stop and think of all of the possible combinations of DNA that are, have been, or will be, having the one that makes you YOU is pretty amazing. God made no mistake when He put your parts together.

But yesterday morning, it was more personal than that. I am alive. I am unique. I have given birth to three incredible and unique children. I am so blessed.

This blog didn’t just spring from nothing. At this moment you’re reading words that I wrote. This blog is full of them, full of my thoughts. You may agree with some, or many, or even none of them, but you can’t deny that they are here. If for no other reason than you are aware of my words, you know that I exist.

And you have no right to do anything to change that fact. I see no reason why any of you ever would, and, with one exception, no one ever has. For several months in 1973, one young woman, still in high school, held the legal right to end my life. She had never seen me. I could not speak to her. But it was up to her whether I lived or died. A vocal segment of society told her, and the Supreme Court affirmed, that it was her right to choose. But I had no say. As a result of a choice she had already made, I grew inside her body, completely dependent and powerless. I had no way to even speak in defense of my own right to live. But even then I was one-of-a-kind, the only me there could ever be. My unique DNA had been established when egg and sperm combined. No one else would ever have the distinct whorl of my fingerprints or the same same flecks in the exact shade of green of my eyes. No one else could have my voice or my thoughts. But, according to the law, I was unnecessary. The Supreme Court denied the reality of my existence.

In April, my legal status changed as the next stage of my life began. Doctors and nurses began fighting for my life. Because they could see me, hear me, touch me, hold me, they were obligated to help me. I needed them. Their knowledge, experience, and equipment. I was still dependent on others for survival, but these others were now bound by their oath to do no harm. My little body fought to do what it had been doing for months, hidden from their sight – I fought to live.

Nine days later, my life outside the hospital began as I was taken home as the daughter of Nancy and Glen. I was dependent on two new people. They had been waiting a long time for me. As time went by, I became less and less dependent. Eventually I became responsible to bring a unique individual into the world. His name is Jonathan. He was followed by a younger brother named Joel and a sister named Nora.

According to the law of our land, we didn’t need to be here. But we are. Life isn’t always easy or pleasant, and I haven’t always used the time with which I have been blessed in the best ways I could have, but, regardless of the law, no one should have had the right to deny me my right to live it.

Thank you, Sherry, for not terminating your pregnancy. Thank you for not terminating me.

That I may know Him, and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death.

How many of us embrace the inevitability, the necessity, of suffering? It is not uncommon for us as Christians to have a vague understanding of the need to die to self, but do we really practice it, submit to it, moment-by-moment?

For those of you who would like to join with the Wesleyan Church for i x 2 (intercession and intervention) this Human Trafficking Awareness Day, here are the prayer points suggested on the event’s Facebook page:

• The protection, rescue, and recovery of human trafficking victims.
• The spiritual repentance and conversion of human traffickers.
• The members of congress who create laws against human trafficking.
• The members of the judiciary system who prosecute traffickers of humans.
• The federal, state, and local police who enforce laws against human trafficking.
• The national, spiritual, and social conditions that allow human trafficking.

Don’t forget to prayerfully consider your place in this battle.

Action

Here are a few things you can do to help the exploited and vulnerable.

Support World Hope International‘s anti-trafficking efforts or the International Justice Mission.

Sponsor a child through World Hope or Compassion International.

If you are interested in sampling fair trade foods, check out Trade as One’s Hungry for Change program. For $33 a month, you will receive four or five food items they carry in their online store. Check out the other fair trade items they carry while you’re on their site.

Android and iPhone users can download a barcode scan app that gives company ratings of A to F based on what they do to prevent and address exploitative labor practices. Free2Work’s new and improved online ratings site should be back up and running soon.

Keep your eyes and ears open.

Examine yourself. Don’t fall victim to the lies that keep our society a place where human trafficking can not only exist but flourish. More on this later today.

Working with the little girls I was teaching at the time of my URI courses was difficult for me. The realization that there were adults who would pay for the use of little girls’ bodies for sexual gratification would slam into my consciousness in the classroom. I couldn’t keep reality compartmentalized. It made me sick to my stomach. And so sad.

And now I have a daughter of my own. She was rather a surprise, and her birth marked my stepping back from various responsibilities. It was what needed to be done. And I loved it. The world went on without me and I cherished the “extra” time I had with my baby, and my boys. I didn’t forget what I had learned, but it was never my focus. I was, for the most part, content to leave the subject in the back of my mind.

But today…

I’ve been thinking all week about the issue. Looking for a direction for a brief presentation for church tomorrow. One thing I appreciate about my denomination is its abolitionist history. The Wesleyan Church in large part owes its existence to men and women who understood that although slavery was not proscribed in Scripture, it goes against God’s intent for mankind and Christians cannot support the owning of another human, created in God’s image. Exploitation of any man, woman, or child in any form is unacceptable. And in that spirit, the Board of General Superintendents issued a proclamation in December:

Recognizing that the trafficking of humans is an evil practice that is increasing worldwide, and remembering the efforts of our Church’s founding fathers and mothers who risked their very lives to free the enslaved and bring justice to all people, the Board of General Superintendents of The Wesleyan Church calls Wesleyans everywhere to a day of intercession and intervention on behalf of the victims and perpetrators of human trafficking on January 11, 2012.

We request that local churches include information about the issue of trafficking in persons; and also request that a time of prayer be included in the activities of that day.

The Board of General Superintendents, The Wesleyan Church

Dr. Jerry G. Pence, Dr. Jo Anne Lyon

So, here I am, on Saturday, January 7…trying to be ready to do something that used to come naturally. My mother’s heart doesn’t want to deal with the truth right now, or at least not be submerged in this aspect of it.

I have a very basic PowerPoint presentation, highlighting the Wesleyan Church’s call to prayer.

In observance of the January 11, 2012, Human Trafficking Awareness Day, the Board of General Superintendents of The Wesleyan Church will be calling its constituents to pray for:

• The protection, rescue, and recovery of human trafficking victims.
• The spiritual repentance and conversion of human traffickers.
• The members of congress who create laws against human trafficking.
• The members of the judiciary system who prosecute traffickers of humans.
• The federal, state, and local police who enforce laws against human trafficking.
• The national, spiritual, and social conditions that allow human trafficking.

There is so much to say. I had started making some notes. Because I always forget something when I speak. And, like I said, I’m out of practice on the subject – rusty with my definitions and facts, and a little behind the time with my statistics. And although it is still close to my heart, I’ve been shielding my heart.

And I still want to.

I knew where I was going, and considering what details to include. I think there will be children listening. Like the Bible, this not a G-rated.

Pondering…

Thud…

Screams.

Nora had tipped over in her little rocking chair and hit her head on the floor.

I picked her up. She was fine, but wanted to be held even after she was done crying.

We sat.

And I felt that old familiar revulsion as I looked at her. To think of what is done to children as small and even smaller than her. To think that there are men who can not only be sexually aroused by children who don’t even have a concept of sex, and act on it. To think of the horrible, even fatal, injuries suffered when young body parts are too small and delicate to accommodate  what perverts choose to inflict on them.

I couldn’t stop there as late afternoon became evening. Children like my older son having already spent years doing hard manual labor in brick factories, or being forced to murder as child soldiers. Desperate parents of children like my younger son being tricked into sending them into slavery as restavecs in Haiti, treated worse than family dogs and forced to work painfully long hours…

I’m remembering. I won’t know exactly what my presentation will contain until the words have come out of my mouth. And I will be back with more here. We really have no excuse to do nothing. As my University of Rhode Island instructor comforted us as a class overwhelmed by the huge ugliness of human trafficking, we can make a difference. She used as examples the shifts in attitudes toward domestic abuse and drunk driving in our society, brought about by grass roots efforts. As I mentioned earlier, people’s perspectives are already changing.

As Christians, we have a Scriptural mandate to protect the defenseless and seek justice for the oppressed. We must honor the value of each human life and shine God’s Light.  The Church has been likened to a sleeping giant that must awake and wield its power to fight this evil.

Like, I said, there will be more on this subject to follow. I just couldn’t NOT write about it this evening, nor can I continue. Bedtime prayers with the kids. Ice cream with the husband. And sleep. I’ll finish my notes in the morning.

“If the only home I hope for is the grave,
if I spread out my bed in the realm of darkness,
if I say to corruption, ‘You are my father,’
and to the worm, ‘My mother’ or ‘My sister,’
where then is my hope—
who can see any hope for me?
Will it go down to the gates of death?
Will we descend together into the dust?”
Job 17:13-16

Job had lost everything but pain. Everything except a wife and three friends who all turned on him. She gave him bad advice and they, after sitting in silent sympathy for days, blamed him for his suffering.

Job had every reason to be depressed, to feel hopeless.

But what was my excuse? As I’ve written before, there was no reasonable reason for my feeling as if there could never again be anything good in my life. My good life became bitter and then flavorless. Twisted but flat. How can you explain how colors and sounds can be both muted and painfully sharp?  I felt like it would make me gag if I had the energy to do so. It’s not agony when you forget what pleasure and hope even feel like; it’s more like…resignation? Drowning without struggling against that which pulls you down and steals your shallow breath.

In the moments I could feel, I needed to be able to blame. My husband caught the brunt of that.

Sometimes it was like being already disconnected from my body. People were so far away even when standing next to me. I could believe each of them, every other person on this earth, has a purpose, but I did not and could not.

I know that Truth is Truth regardless of how I’m feeling, regardless of my ability to believe it at the moment. Would I even be alive without God’s grace expressed in that foundation? I’m not even sure how long the time lasted when the only prayer I can remember being able to have could be more clearly articulated as , “Ok, I know I’m lost. Just please save my kids.” I came to understand what I was experiencing was a taste of hell and I couldn’t believe that I could expect to ever experience anything better. I wouldn’t wish the temporal hopelessness on anyone, and certainly not the eternal reality I can’t even imagine.

I’ve had to accept that sometimes my brain turns on me.

I know that God has allowed it. My experience neither caught Him by surprise nor occurred without first being sifted through His hand. I also know that whatever He allows He will use for good. I’ve seen and experienced it, and know He will continue as I continue to yield to the process. Although it could be easy to look at that month as lost time, it doesn’t have to be. And any negative impact my mood had on my kids does not need to go unanswered.

You are not beyond hope. Your suffering and your sin are not beyond God’s redemptive power.

I’d love to be able to tell you that everything is wonderful. Or better yet, that although I’m still not caught up with things, I’m not overwhelmed, that my head has been on straight all the time and I’ve been joyously at peace, that I was excited preparing for my daughter’s birthday and Christmas. But that wouldn’t be truth. Although I am still relieved to have been delivered from the labyrinth of the dark part of my mind, that my heart doesn’t feel so shrunken and empty, that I can again hope and believe…I still struggle. The sunless hours, the cold, and, well, the normal demands of daily life seem to conspire against me. I don’t want to use my blog to whine, but if you’re struggling, and I describe only victory, how can I let you know that you’re not alone? I can’t encourage you if you think I don’t know where you’re coming from. Although it is important to seek professional help if you need it, I believe the most important thing is to seek God the Father through His Son Jesus Christ. If you know the Lord as Savior, don’t deny the reality of your problem or ignore the spiritual ramifications.

There’s no shortage of stressors this time of year. How are you dealing with yours?

I crashed again about a week ago. I couldn’t see my many blessings, couldn’t believe there was real good in my life or that there ever would be. But I didn’t slip all the way over into…wherever it is I get trapped in my head. One thing I did that was helpful was interrupting the repetitive negative self talk. I frequently had to tell myself to stop thinking. As before, I would get hopeless thoughts stuck in my head. They would play over and over and over. I lacked the ability to “argue” against them. I believed them, but could remember that how I feel doesn’t change Truth. Since I couldn’t find any “positive self talk” with which to replace the other, I had to make an effort to make myself stop, to short circuit the vicious cycle, or maybe downward spiral would be more apt. A negative thought given attention leads to a negative attitude, and more negative thoughts that get more difficult to deny. Until they are all I can hear.

It’s subtle at first, when hopelessness seeps into the heart. I invite it when I choose ingratitude, resentment, annoyance; when I choose to focus on the temporal. It undermines and erodes the good until the good is submerged, so far vanished beneath the murk that I can only believe it has been washed away…or was never really there. To believe in good, to believe that there is a Sovereign God Who chooses to invite us into intimate relationship with Him seems irrational. Although the lie is unpleasant, it is tempting in its “reality” and seeming rationality.

Whatever may be going on in your life, don’t let it distract you from the reality – the Truth – of the Hope of this season. People, feelings, and circumstances change, but God does not. Christmas is a time to remember and celebrate His greatest gift. It wouldn’t have been worth celebrating as a holiday without Good Friday and Easter. God’s Son didn’t come here just to share in our experience. He didn’t come to set a good example for moral behavior. He sacrificed Himself on our behalf. And the acceptability of His sacrifice was verified by His resurrection.

Have you accepted the free gift of His death on your behalf and experienced the freedom found in Him? That is my greatest hope for you. It’s not a magic cure-all, but if you’re looking for fulfillment in lesser things, you will continue to be left empty and lost.

It’s your choice. Do you continue to choose your own way, or surrender to the One Who made You and knows you better than you know yourself? It’s not an invitation to pain-free, thought-free, effort-free existence. It’s being brought into an eternal relationship with the Creator and Sustainer of the universe, and a life of being remade in the image of His Son. I may not always seem to be the best example of the freedom, peace, and joy found in Christ, but He has made the all the difference in my life. Like Paul, I may long to be free of particular weaknesses but it is in them that I find true strength, HIS strength. Also like Paul, I know that I can’t boast in what I’ve accomplished, or how I’ve pulled myself out of the mire, it is only in Him that I can boast. It is only His grace that has brought me to this point in my life – even when I wouldn’t, even when I couldn’t, acknowledge it.

Trust Him. After all, what do you have to lose?

Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

II Corinthians 12:7b-10

It was so nice to be back in church, able to look people in the eye, able to smile, and able to sing. When I was thinking about going to church, and getting ready, the phrase “sitting, and clothed, and in [her] right mind” came to mind. Which brings me to something that will be an important theme of my blog – my attempts to gain a deeper understanding of the interplay of the physical and spiritual in mental health disorders. Which involves the mind-boggling relationship between God’s Sovereignty and our freewill. (For the theologically-minded, I am a Wesleyan, and very definitely lean toward a Wesleyan Arminian understanding of freewill.)

I’ve been thinking about our roles in the Body of Christ, and about spiritual gifts. I have often thought that I might have the gift of exhortation/encouragement, depending on your translation of the Bible. Now, I am willing to accept that truth…and responsibility…and I have a few words for my brothers and sisters in Christ. If you read my post from December 3, you know that I am incredibly grateful for those who prayed for me. If God lays someone on your heart, there’s a reason. Even if you only have a moment to shoot up a quick prayer, do it. If God wants more, He’s gracious and will remind you again, as long as there’s a chance you’ll really listen. It’s not only a matter of obedience, but an amazing invitation to be part of what He’s doing. You may never, on this earth, know the impact your prayers for others have, but someday, we will see the bigger picture. I’ve really been falling down in this area, so this message is for me as much as it is for fellow believers. God allowed several of you to be part of saving my life; don’t take that lightly. It was time for me to be dragged up out of the pit, for a new beginning. And I am grateful to each of you who heeded His nudging to reach out to me and/or be in prayer. God’s timing is perfect, however it may feel to us. The changes in me and in my marriage in the last week have been amazing. They couldn’t happen until I was brought down to as close to nothing as I could survive. Don’t miss out on the opportunity to be used by God in the working of a miracle. Isn’t that what any growth in Him really is? It goes against human nature and logic, but it happens and it’s wonderful.

So…fellow sufferers, fellow loved ones of sufferers, and fellow believers – Don’t minimize the physical or the spiritual aspects of depression.

For me, protecting safety and health will require some changes in my day-to-day life. And what better way to submit myself to accountability than to post my goals on the Internet?

I have been forced to admit that I suffer from depression. I know not everyone reading this will understand. Those who reduce depression to spiritual deficiency will judge me. I can live with that. Others will sympathize, or even empathize. For those of you who have been where I’m leaving, and those who will find themselves there again or for the first time, no matter how alone you feel, you never are.

If only it was possible to believe this when the darkness descends, wells up, and permeates every corner of your mind and heart.

So, how does someone live through numerous bouts of depression, earn a BS in Psychology, and reach the age of 38 without realizing she has a problem? Maybe the easier question to answer would be “What was different this time?”

To start, there was no particular trigger. Nothing I could blame. As I mentioned before, nothing changed. Nothing out of the ordinary happened.

It doesn’t surprise me when I have difficult days in autumn, when I get “blue” when the weather turns colder and the days get shorter. It doesn’t even surprise me when I feel like I’m dying. But, generally, I know that I am blessed, that there are many good things in life, and I can relatively quickly regain the knowledge that I have a purpose when I get to feeling out-of-place. I’m not surprised when the normal monthly cycle of shifting hormone levels makes me moody. I’m not surprised when not eating regularly or drinking enough water saps my energy, makes me sad, and leaves me confused and irrational.

We’re human. We experience a variety of emotions. It’s not abnormal to feel sad sometimes, to get weepy and emotional. Frustration and anger are not extraordinary. Given the pace and pressures of life, feeling overwhelmed at times is natural. It may not be right, but it is normal to let these emotions affect our behavior and interactions with others. It’s even natural to let these emotions get out of control at times. It can be gratifying to allow emotion to guide our behavior, but it’s childish.

So, it was a typical autumn. I was hating the chill in the air and resenting the loss of the green leaves. I was frustrated by my inability to adjust to my new schedule, and even more tired and sad as darkness held back the daylight when I had to force myself out of bed in the morning and grasped it away by dinnertime. I was overwhelmed by all the things we didn’t get done over the summer and angry that once again we’d finished so little of the much-needed renovations during good weather. My hormones started waging war on my body and brain.

It was rough. It was unpleasant – and, at times, so was I. It’s not a place I enjoy. I know it’s unhealthy. It does affect my day-to-day activities and interactions, and my ability to enjoy the usual things is impaired. But it’s manageable. How difficult a day becomes is pretty much directly related to my choices – where I choose to focus and how I choose to react. I can’t completely regulate my mood, but I can make things less difficult. It can be a grind, and I may doubt, but, ultimately, I still have faith and the ability to believe Truth. There are times when it’s difficult to remember that there have been, and there will be, better days, but those times pass.

This is not the first time that the bottom has fallen out. But this time, there was nothing specific to blame. I was back in that place where all I could believe was that nothing could be better, but I lacked a causal event. Something, or someone, had to be at fault. It must be that I just couldn’t take going into another winter with so little accomplished in and around the house…but we’re still making progress, and more quickly in some areas. It must be my husband’s fault…but he was only as human as he’d ever been.

When I could get out of my head I had to admit that it wasn’t a matter of what was going on outside of me. Nor was it the result of a choice I’d made.

I’ve had to accept that there are times that something beyond my control happens, a catastrophic glitch in my brain. I would have to guess that it’s a chemical imbalance. And, in a way, I lose (at least part of) my mind. Just to be clear, I am NOT saying that I am not responsible for my actions during these times. But I lose access to neural connections that allow me to hope.

I think it’s a small taste of hell – no joy, no light, no pleasure, no fellowship, no hope, and the feeling that God has no place for me.

I don’t know if I could have survived this last bout of hopelessness if it weren’t for my kids, my feeling of obligation to them, and my lack of trust in anyone’s ability to raise MY kids that way I think they should be raised. I just wanted to get them grown so I could die. And when I could see how little I was able to give them in that state, I felt completely purposeless.

Was there something “worse” this time that made it harder, that made it last so long? I don’t think so. I’ve realized something important this week – I’m no longer self-medicating. I’ve broken the enslaving cycle of seeking new sexual relationships, flirtations, and fantasy – and realized they were in large part coping mechanisms. I may not have been ingesting chemicals, but I wasn’t using men only to feel validation, pleasure, and excitement, but to adjust my brain chemistry. I’ve long understood my physical and mental sexual habits as temporary fixes, and have added a new and integral aspect to my understanding.

I’m not quite sure what to do with the insight of this week. I have long been someone who avoids medication, and given my atypical reactions (and overreactions), I would hesitate to seek drug therapy.

For the first time in my life I feel like I am standing with a foot in each of my worlds. In the past, good times were good; it was difficult for me to remember how bad I felt when I got out of whack – and vice versa. At this moment, I haven’t yet regained the wholeness I was living in, but something switched on or off Sunday afternoon; I no longer feel beyond hope. For some of you reading this it may make sense when I say that I can see real color again.

It is so true that when we least feel like being in the Word, it is the most important. Although it is very dangerous to reduce mental health issues to the spiritual, it cannot be denied that there is always a spiritual aspect – as with EVERYTHING else in life. On Sunday, several people became aware that something was not right, and several people began praying. It’s not a coincidence that Sunday is when the worst of the darkness finally lifted. And one day this week, when I came home from school and started crashing again, my husband’s act of faith, humility, and obedience to pray for me, and speak aloud in prayer the words I’d lost, were used by our Awesome God to bring me back up where I could see and stand. Jeff believed when I couldn’t and  had the faith and grace to act. I am grateful. And I know that I am blessed.

I’ve been thinking about choices. Specifically, the choices we make to leave things behind as we progress in our walks with the Lord. As I sat in the passenger seat of the car of one of the two men from my church who made sure I made it home alive, the driver said, “You probably don’t like my choice in music. I’m a classic rock guy.” The non sequitur surprised me. Kind of like when I was on the highway earlier in the evening, going and steering in one direction, but having the Jeep randomly veering the other way. A whole lot less adrenaline in response, though, and without the need to gain control of the conversation as quickly as possible.

I told him that I had to make the decision a while ago to not listen to secular music; it does bad things for my mood.

To be more blunt than was appropriate in that setting at the moment, anything that glorifies sex, reminds me of the what was pleasurable in my “past life” while denying the enslavement, or encourages me to compare my real-life marriage with a songwriter’s imaginings, is poison.

There have been many things like that. Both things I’ve given up because I realized they were proscribed in Scripture, and others, like secular music, because I’ve been subjected to the gracious conviction of the Holy Spirit. It’s difficult enough for me to keep my head on straight without feeding my mind with things that distract me from God, glorify sinfulness, and feed my weaknesses.

It’s never freedom to keep doing something just because it’s what we want to do; freedom is found in the letting go. Sadly, when I’ve talked about these things, some people seem to think in terms of rules and limitations – dreaded, and deadly, legalism. If they care at all about what the Bible has to say about things, they cling to a (warped) concept of the freedom in Christ which Paul joyfully, and rightly, proclaimed. But where is the other side of Paul’s coin? He wouldn’t compromise on sin, and he refused to use freedom as an excuse to sin or to encourage sin in others.

I wish I were better at conveying the freedom of giving up ways of worshipping self. I wish it was easier for people, myself included, to learn from others’ mistakes.

So that’s what I’m thinking about today. I’ve been kind of quiet again since I went back to volunteer teaching. I haven’t yet adjusted to my new schedule. But it’s Veteran’s Day. School is closed and I’m stranded following the Jeep’s rebellion. Turns out the frame is cracked, so I’m hoping scrap metal prices are good next week. Acquiring reliable transportation with as little financial obligation as possible is on my mind, too. As are many more important things. I’ll try to get back here soon. For now, I need to get back to the laundry.